<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xmlns:xhtml="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
  <head>
    <title>1. CHAPTER XVII</title>
  </head>
  <body>
    <div class="chapter" id="id1037117"><h2>1. CHAPTER XVII</h2>


<p id="id1037123"><span id="id121746"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->

When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found
it hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;—
with so much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton
engross Jane Fairfax and slight herself.  She and Mrs. Weston were
obliged to be almost always either talking together or silent together. 
Mrs. Elton left them no choice.  If Jane repressed her for a
little time, she soon began again; and though much that passed
between them was in a half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton’s side,
there was no avoiding a knowledge of their principal subjects: 
The post-office—catching cold—fetching letters—and friendship,
were long under discussion; and to them succeeded one, which must
be at least equally unpleasant to Jane—inquiries whether she had
yet heard of any situation likely to suit her, and professions of
Mrs. Elton’s meditated activity.
</p>

<p id="id1037126"><span id="id121755"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Here is April come!” said she, “I get quite anxious about you. 
June will soon be here.”
</p>

<p id="id1037134"><span id="id121762"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“But I have never fixed on June or any other month—merely looked
forward to the summer in general.”
</p>

<p id="id1037141"><span id="id121772"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“But have you really heard of nothing?”
</p>

<p id="id1037145"><span id="id121781"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet.”
</p>

<p id="id1037152"><span id="id121790"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware
of the difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing.”
</p>

<p id="id1037147"><span id="id121801"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I not aware!” said Jane, shaking her head; “dear Mrs. Elton,
who can have thought of it as I have done?”
</p>

<p id="id1037165"><span id="id121812"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“But you have not seen so much of the world as I have.  You do not
know how many candidates there always are for the first situations. 
I saw a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. 
A cousin of Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity
of applications; every body was anxious to be in her family,
for she moves in the first circle.  Wax-candles in the schoolroom! 
You may imagine how desirable!  Of all houses in the kingdom
Mrs. Bragge’s is the one I would most wish to see you in.”
</p>

<p id="id1037169"><span id="id121818"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,”
said Jane.  “I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will
want it;—afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. 
But I would not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries
at present.”
</p>

<p id="id1037173"><span id="id121825"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Trouble! aye, I know your scruples.  You are afraid of giving
me trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can
hardly be more interested about you than I am.  I shall write
to Mrs. Partridge in a day or two, and shall give her a strict
charge to be on the look-out for any thing eligible.”
</p>

<p id="id1037167"><span id="id121831"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject
to her; till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving
any body trouble.”
</p>

<p id="id1037178"><span id="id121843"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April,
and June, or say even July, is very near, with such business
to accomplish before us.  Your inexperience really amuses me! 
A situation such as you deserve, and your friends would require for you,
is no everyday occurrence, is not obtained at a moment’s notice;
indeed, indeed, we must begin inquiring directly.”
</p>

<p id="id1037186"><span id="id121849"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no
inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends. 
When I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid
of being long unemployed.  There are places in town, offices,
where inquiry would soon produce something—Offices for the sale—
not quite of human flesh—but of human intellect.”
</p>

<p id="id1037191"><span id="id121856"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Oh! my dear, human flesh!  You quite shock me; if you mean a fling
at the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather
a friend to the abolition.”
</p>

<p id="id1037194"><span id="id121868"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane;
“governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view;
widely different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on;
but as to the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where
it lies.  But I only mean to say that there are advertising offices,
and that by applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon
meeting with something that would do.”
</p>

<p id="id1037202"><span id="id121875"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Something that would do!” repeated Mrs. Elton.  “Aye, that may
suit your humble ideas of yourself;—I know what a modest creature
you are; but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up
with any thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation,
in a family not moving in a certain circle, or able to command
the elegancies of life.”
</p>

<p id="id1037205"><span id="id121881"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent;
it would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications,
I think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison. 
A gentleman’s family is all that I should condition for.”
</p>

<p id="id1037208"><span id="id121888"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I
shall be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will
be quite on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right
to move in the first circle.  Your musical knowledge alone would
entitle you to name your own terms, have as many rooms as you like,
and mix in the family as much as you chose;—that is—I do not know—
if you knew the harp, you might do all that, I am very sure;
but you sing as well as play;—yes, I really believe you might,
even without the harp, stipulate for what you chose;—and you must
and shall be delightfully, honourably and comfortably settled before
the Campbells or I have any rest.”
</p>

<p id="id1037217"><span id="id121895"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort
of such a situation together,” said Jane, “they are pretty sure
to be equal; however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing
to be attempted at present for me.  I am exceedingly obliged to you,
Mrs. Elton, I am obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am
quite serious in wishing nothing to be done till the summer. 
For two or three months longer I shall remain where I am, and as
I am.”
</p>

<p id="id1037188"><span id="id121902"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“And I am quite serious too, I assure you,” replied Mrs. Elton gaily,
“in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends
to watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us.”
</p>

<p id="id1037223"><span id="id121916"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing
till Mr. Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change
of object, and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane,
</p>

<p id="id1037236"><span id="id121926"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest!—Only think of his
gallantry in coming away before the other men!—what a dear creature
he is;—I assure you I like him excessively.  I admire all that quaint,
old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease;
modern ease often disgusts me.  But this good old Mr. Woodhouse,
I wish you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner.  Oh!  I assure
you I began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. 
I fancy I am rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. 
How do you like it?—Selina’s choice—handsome, I think, but I
do not know whether it is not over-trimmed; I have the greatest
dislike to the idea of being over-trimmed—quite a horror of finery. 
I must put on a few ornaments now, because it is expected of me. 
A bride, you know, must appear like a bride, but my natural taste
is all for simplicity; a simple style of dress is so infinitely
preferable to finery.  But I am quite in the minority, I believe;
few people seem to value simplicity of dress,—show and finery
are every thing.  I have some notion of putting such a trimming
as this to my white and silver poplin.  Do you think it will
look well?”
</p>

<p id="id1037239"><span id="id121933"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room
when Mr. Weston made his appearance among them.  He had returned
to a late dinner, and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. 
He had been too much expected by the best judges, for surprize—
but there was great joy.  Mr. Woodhouse was almost as glad to see
him now, as he would have been sorry to see him before.  John Knightley
only was in mute astonishment.—That a man who might have spent
his evening quietly at home after a day of business in London,
should set off again, and walk half a mile to another man’s house,
for the sake of being in mixed company till bed-time, of finishing
his day in the efforts of civility and the noise of numbers,
was a circumstance to strike him deeply.  A man who had been in motion
since eight o’clock in the morning, and might now have been still,
who had been long talking, and might have been silent, who had been
in more than one crowd, and might have been alone!—Such a man,
to quit the tranquillity and independence of his own fireside,
and on the evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again into
the world!—Could he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken
back his wife, there would have been a motive; but his coming would
probably prolong rather than break up the party.  John Knightley
looked at him with amazement, then shrugged his shoulders, and said,
“I could not have believed it even of him.”
</p>

<p id="id1037221"><span id="id121940"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation
he was exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all
the right of being principal talker, which a day spent anywhere
from home confers, was making himself agreeable among the rest;
and having satisfied the inquiries of his wife as to his dinner,
convincing her that none of all her careful directions to the servants
had been forgotten, and spread abroad what public news he had heard,
was proceeding to a family communication, which, though principally
addressed to Mrs. Weston, he had not the smallest doubt of being
highly interesting to every body in the room.  He gave her a letter,
it was from Frank, and to herself; he had met with it in his way,
and had taken the liberty of opening it.
</p>

<p id="id1037246"><span id="id121947"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Read it, read it,” said he, “it will give you pleasure;
only a few lines—will not take you long; read it to Emma.”
</p>

<p id="id1037243"><span id="id121958"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling
and talking to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued,
but very audible to every body.
</p>

<p id="id1037260"><span id="id121967"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
“Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think.  Well, what do
you say to it?—I always told you he would be here again soon,
did not I?—Anne, my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would
not believe me?—In town next week, you see—at the latest, I dare say;
for she is as impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is
to be done; most likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday. 
As to her illness, all nothing of course.  But it is an excellent
thing to have Frank among us again, so near as town.  They will stay
a good while when they do come, and he will be half his time with us. 
This is precisely what I wanted.  Well, pretty good news, is not it? 
Have you finished it?  Has Emma read it all?  Put it up, put it up;
we will have a good talk about it some other time, but it will not
do now.  I shall only just mention the circumstance to the others in a
common way.”
</p>

<p id="id1037264"><span id="id121974"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. 
Her looks and words had nothing to restrain them.  She was happy,
she knew she was happy, and knew she ought to be happy. 
Her congratulations were warm and open; but Emma could not speak
so fluently.  She was a little occupied in weighing her own feelings,
and trying to understand the degree of her agitation, which she
rather thought was considerable.
</p>

<p id="id1037262"><span id="id121987"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative
to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say,
and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial
communication of what the whole room must have overheard already.
</p>

<p id="id1037271"><span id="id121998"><!--anchor--></span><!--after-->
It was well that he took every body’s joy for granted, or he
might not have thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley
particularly delighted.  They were the first entitled,
after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to be made happy;—from them he would
have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but she was so deep in conversation
with John Knightley, that it would have been too positive
an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs. Elton, and
her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the subject with her.
</p>



<span id="index.xml-pb-id122006"><!--anchor--></span><p style="page-break-before: always"/></div>
  </body>
</html>
